Flying
by bibliophilea
Summary: He's flying. Or is he?


Flying.

He's flying.

He can feel the wind, so he must be flying. It buffets his face, tying knots in his hair, numbing his fingers and his feet, scraping the rough cotton of his pants against his legs, tearing at his shirt and attempting to pull it away from-

Wait.

What happened to his shoes? And his gloves? And his hazmat suit? If he isn't wearing them then he isn't in ghost mode, and if he isn't in ghost mode, then...

He peels his eyes open, fighting against the wind and his own exhaustion, trying to make sense of the constellations spinning around him. Orion, Perseus, Cassiopeia, Lyra - are those even stars? No, he knows that pattern, not constellations but streets mapped out before him in city lights. Orion, Perseus, Hercules, city lights growing closer with every revolution, about thirty seconds away if memory serves and he's-

Falling.

He's falling.

He's falling, but it's okay, he just has to go ghost, just has to right himself and-

Pain.

Pain pain pain like he's being stabbed in the side by Skulker's machete and electrocuted by the Plasmius Maximus at the same time and someone's screaming and there's _something_ still in there and it feels like fire and electricity blazing hot white through his abdomen and-

He stops trying to go ghost and the pain his side dulls to an unpleasant ache. His throat is sore and his limbs are numb and his ears are ringing with the memory of his screams and the rush of the wind and it's hard to see past the tears in his eyes but the city lights are much closer than they were before and he thinks he has about twenty seconds to impact. And even with whatever's stuck in his side that shouldn't be a problem, except he can't go ghost.

He can't go ghost.

He can't go ghost and he's going to die if he doesn't do something about the thing in his side and he can't _think_ over the scream still ringing in his ears and-

Wait.

That's not his scream.

He's still spinning wildly as he tries to locate the source of the scream, twists to try to right himself (and he wants to vomit with the pain, he can feel _it_ shifting inside him, feel his blood soaking his shirt even as the wind seeks to dry it) but it only helps a little and there goes Cygnus, Hercules, city lights (far too close oh god), Orion, Taurus, Cass-

No not Cassiopeia. A dark mass blocking out the constellation, invisible if not for the red glow emanating from it, falling with him, faster than him, growing closer until he sees it's a human figure joined to a sled at the feet-

Valerie.

It's _Valerie_.

It's Valerie bearing down on him, Valerie whose guttural scream is echoing in his ears, Valerie who had found him moments after he'd finally caught that weird cat-snake-ghost-thing, Valerie who had chased him two miles straight up despite his hopes that she'd back off and choose the ability to breathe over seeing him obliterated, Valerie who had shot him with something that looked like a crossbow and felt like lightning and fire and pain, Valerie who's chasing him now.

And he'd feel something about that, but he has ten seconds to live and those feelings are for survivors, so he focuses on the thing in his side, on getting it out so he can go ghost so he can phase intangible-

 _9_

He looks at the wound and- it's bad. He can see the blood soaking his shirt, see his shirt writhe as the wind tears at it, attempting to pull it away from the end of the blade still stuck in his side, and he wants to vomit but he holds it in-

 _8_

He grips the blade and tugs, and can't hold in the scream that leaves him as he feels it tearing into his flesh, feels blood pouring from the wound, oh god the damn thing must be barbed but he needs to _get it out_ -

 _7_

Valerie lets loose an answering cry and pulls out another weapon, this time a gun, and he screams his frustration because isn't that just typical, hasn't she thrown enough at him, doesn't she care it's him, human-him, her-friend-and-nearly-boyfriend-him? Just how dead does she need him to be?!

 _6_

He pulls at the blade as he screams, he can _feel_ the barbs rending his flesh, can almost feel the warmth of his blood slicking his numb fingers, and he knows he's making the wound worse but he'll deal with it later-

 _5_

His fingers slip from the blade. Valerie fires.

 _4_

In desperation he grabs the blade, edges cutting into his fingers and palms, and _yanks_. He shrieks, sobs with pain, and his vision, which is already hazy, goes white and he knows if the fall doesn't kill him the wound might but he's _free_ he can finally _go gho_ -

Thick wires wrap around his torso, pinning his arms to his side and the bloodied blade to his bloodier hand, but he can't feel it over the electricity coursing through him, not as bad as the accident but back then he didn't have a _gaping hole_ in his side-

 _3_

It's too much, he's lost too much blood, endured too much pain, he can't see, _he can't_ -

 _2_

His eyes roll into the back his head.

 _1..._

 _He's flying._

 **.**

 **.**

 **...**

 **Thanks for reading! This is my first time really writing anything in years, so any commentary/criticism would be nice. Thank you to darknessandterrorandkittens on tumblr for reading this first and encouraging me to post it!**


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